If My Kid Is Being An Asshole, I Want You To Tell Me

In the past couple of weeks, I have found myself in a few different awkward positions where I haven’t quite known what the right thing to do is.

In one situation, one of my kids got hurt by a friend’s kid. Like struck in the head with a rock.

Should I say something? It was an accident. I knew the kid felt bad.

I wanted to say something, but I never did.

Another situation did not involve my kids. But I was told that the teenage child of someone I’m not super close friends with but someone I like and see around once a week or so has been engaging in behavior that is unhealthy. And illegal. Stuff that would devastate me if I found out it was one of my kids.

What should I do?

Should I say something? Or stay out of it?

I know if it were me, in both those scenarios, I would want to know.

I think many of us moms find ourselves in these situations.

Not knowing whether we should speak up or not.

So I’m going to make it crystal clear:

If my kid whips a rock and hits your kid in the head, I want you to tell me.

Whether or not it was an accident.

If my kid talks to you disrespectfully, I want you to tell me.

If my kid is doing drugs, I want you to tell me.

If you see my kid in a place you think he or she might not have permission to be, I want you to tell me.

If you hear my kid is doing drugs, even if you aren’t positive it’s true, I want you to tell me.

If you think my kid might have gotten shitfaced at a party but aren’t positive that’s true either, I want you to tell me.

If you know my kid has lied to me about something, I want you to tell me.

If my kid is being a bully, I want you to tell me.

If my kid is not being a bully but is just being a general asshole, I want you to tell me.

If you know my kid is having sex with someone, I want you to tell me.

If my kid is using really inappropriate language around other children, I want you to tell me.

If my husband is cheating on me (he’s not, he hasn’t, but you know, hypothetically) please tell me.

If I have a visible booger in my nose, I want you to tell me.

If it is apparent to everyone but me that I have gotten my period, I want you to tell me.

If you find out one of my kids is pregnant, I want you to tell me.

If there is a big, black hair sticking out of my neck or my chin or any other part of my body above my waist (or below for that matter), I want you to tell me.

If my kid is hanging out with a drug addict or a drug dealer or a prostitute or a convicted felon or someone who is more than three years older than he or she is, I want you to tell me.

If my kid is doing shit on the computer that you wouldn’t want your kid to do, I want you to tell me.

If my zipper is down, I want you to tell me.

If my mascara has run down my face and I look like I just went a couple rounds with Mike Tyson, I want you to tell me.

If my skirt is tucked into my underpants, I want you to tell me.

If there is something going on that isn’t on this list and you are torn between telling me and not telling me, I want you to tell me.

And if you want to inform me of any of the things on this list but aren’t sure how to start, just say:

Remember that time you said if your kid was being an asshole you wanted me to tell you? Well…